


The Thin Line

by lechatnoir



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Community: rotg_kink, F/M, Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch and Tooth hate each other. It comes with the territory of being enemies. They also happen to respect each other in a worthy adversary sense; Pitch has his former-general skills and Tooth is a Warrior Queen. As bubbly and delicate as she may appear she can and has defeated Pitch single-handedly in the past.</p>
<p>Despite his hatred towards her, Pitch's feelings of respect turn to admiration to infatuation. He hates her. He loves her. he hates that he's in love with her. Tooth is oblivious to Pitch's emotional turmoil until Pitch does something noticably out of (from her perception) character to help her. When she forces the issue Pitch admits his feelings.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i> They are monsoons and nightmares and death and blood and yet they are broken and drawn to each other but they want to see red, want to see blood raining down on the other and laughing in the face of reality, for they refuse to accept it that there may be something between them </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire Hymn

i.

They are as opposite as fire and ice – as life and death and yet they can only come to clash with each other like monsoons and howling infernos.

She is lace and swords , tied up with schemes and feathers light as the sky and deadly as a viper and yet her feathers are raised – she is annoyed and wary and on high alert, for there are siren bells going off in her head that scream _Danger Danger Danger_ , and the air seems to slowly creep and cling to her skin.

(It is not the cold winds of winter, nor the cold gaze of the sun on an early morning’s stroll. It is the air that clings to you when dread and fear seeps into your pores and you desperately try to get it out of you, clawing at your own throat, your eyes, your mouth, not noticing the blood dripping down from your delicate fingers and you may look all the more like a Warrior Queen but you are a scared little girl, and don’t you _hate_ yourself for it?) 

He is velvet words that drip with poison and a hoard of nightmares and fearlings that creep and wrap themselves around her legs in midflight and they should not be able to reach her – never never never, for she can fly as high as Icarus flew in the myths and not plummet to her death and yet they were there, dragging her down into an never ending darkness, laughing and jeering and _he_ stood before her, a smirk on his lips as he laughed at her.  
“Tut tut, getting sloppy are we, pixie?”   
He watches her hack and slash, wincing unsympathetically at the fury that his Nightmares and Fearlings attack her with and yet he crows like a maniac as her fears bubble to the surface, despite the brave mask she tries to hide behind.  
“Oh, what’s this, little Toothiana can’t handle a bit of _fear_ ? Well, I’m not surprised, all _you_ do is zoom around like an obnoxious feathered fiend and steal teeth for a living. Completely and utterly _useless_ , aren’t you, little queen?” 

He hums in delight as he watches her from a distance, watches her struggle and notices a bit of dirt underneath his nails. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the patch of dirt, he sighs and snaps his fingers, and she is overtaken by the hordes of shadows and corruption, and he can only whistle a tune as he retreats back to his lair, leaving behind a frightened little queen, blades and blood seeping into the ground.

ii.  
“You know Tooth, you should stop chasing him all the time and just you know, make it a _team_ effort! Besides, you getting banged up by that rotten sleazebag isn’t doing anyone any good, and you know that Tooth.” Bunnymund muttered, as he wrapped the bandage around her arm, bloodied cottonballs and scraps of cloth tossed in a pile near their feet as they sat on the ground, Bunny’s Warrior Eggs on high alert and everything was calm.

Full of life, but calm.

(Perhaps that’s what she needed, head full of static and hatred and venomous anger that didn’t bode well with her but it was all she had because she did not need another battle to fight, not with her trying to maintain everything, keep everything running and working because she cannot afford to slip up, not again . 

_Never again_ )

“He starts it. You know very well that we managed to turn his Nightmares against him, the last time we fought him. I thought it would be the end of him. Guess I was wrong.”  
“We’ll keep an eye out , don’t you worry Tooth”  
“Thanks, but I should get going.”  
“Hold up -- hold it, Tooth! I’m not done patching you up ye—“

“I’m fine, really. Thanks Bunnymund – really.” 

With a small smile, she gathers her swords and tells herself to suck it up, bites down on her lip and urges her wings to work, c’mon now, you’ve been through worse – c’mon.

iii.

She manages to crash-land onto the floor of the Tooth Palace, a hysterical laugh bubbling up to her lips as she rolls onto her side, vision blurry and she is too tired to move.  
She slowly gives away to the sleepy tendrils that cling to her and lull her into a lullaby and she is too tired to fight anymore.  
She does not notice the wounds that slowly open up as she tosses and turns on the hard ground, but her blood seeps onto the tiles and a certain Nightmare king watches from his lair underneath the earth, a grin on his face, eyes flickering in the dim light.

_“Tsk tsk tsk, such a weak little pixie hmm? What will we do to your dreams, I wonder. Ah, yes, I do know – we’ll crush them, and you won’t be able to sleep, ever.”_

He laughs and laughs and he is filled with _joy_ because he _hates_ her – the stubborn warrior queen who does not know when to stop, when to finally back _down_ and give up, give into her nightmares.

(It seems as if she has locked up some terrible memories, but what if we were to unlock them once more, and we can play a little dance of death, dear.) 

iv.

She wakes to the sound of chirping and wings fluttering and it is the sight of Baby Tooth and the rest of the guardians that she is startled into jolting upwards and groaning, pain shooting through her body and head and this is really not quite the way she had wanted to check up on them one of these days.  
“Tooth, quite frankly, you look terrible.”  
Rolling her eyes, she mutters “Yeah, tell me about it, you’d think a few Nightmares would be hard to cut down but it seems like they pack quite the punch and not enough time for me to actually get out.” 

“C’mon, we’re going to get you fixed up and then we can talk strategies and battle plans and –“  
“Jack, there’s no need for that.”  
“What? Why the hell not? You were hurt, by _Pitch_ who , you took on by yourself! I’m sorry to say that we would be a bit worried? Considering Peter Cottontail over here told us how you decided to just zoom off before your wounds were even fully closed!”   
“Hey, I am _not_ Peter Cottontail , shrimpy.” 

“Tooth! You should call us if you need help – we are a team! Man in Moon chose us, to be Guardians! We protect the children and each other, you know this!” 

They were far too loud.   
Loud and pounding voices that sounded like screams in her head.

Shaking her head, she only gave them all a tired smile and spoke up, her tone commanding and _final_ and it was not Tooth their friend and fellow guardian but Toothiana, The Warrior Queen standing before them   
“ As much as I appreciate the concern and worry – this is a fight between me and Pitch , and _only_ between me and him. Understood? Now, if you excuse me, I would like to be alone for some time. If I need your help, I will call. But for now, let me be.” 

Her gaze was steel and fire and they dared not to attack or argue – she was cornered and frightened and a wounded creature- but she was not afraid to sink her swords in flesh or fur to make a statement. 

(Her hand trembles and she hides it instead, watches as they leave one by one, until Sandy is the only one left, and she is tired and would like to go to sleep for quite some time. She starts to say something before the small man only signs with his sand 

\- Never drop your guard, Tooth.   
She can only nod and whisper a quiet ‘Thank you’, before retreating to her room, locking herself up and letting her thoughts scream out at her, blood stains on the walls and sheets and she cannot think straight, for there is a constant string of fear and dread sitting in her chest and some sort of connection , some sort of yearning but it is filled to the brim with hatred and she will suffocate under its weight.) 

v.

He watches and hums to himself, playing with a broken spiderweb and he can only smirk as she slowly loses her guard, loses her small frantic grip on sanity as the blood stains her eyes and he thinks this is what the Warrior Queen has been reduced to .

“What an utter _mess_ she’s become.”

The Nightmares and Fearlings snarl and neigh in agreement and he catches himself on a thought – a small, miniscule thought but it is enough to remind him of a old rusted locket with a burnt photograph of a smiling girl with brown hair and a gentle face and he has enough rage to yell out to the empty cages and to smother all of the little lights out of the world but he doesn’t for the thought is suffocating and he wants it _out_ \-   
_She is as broken and damaged as you are, and isn’t that something beautiful?_

He wants to murder her, wants to murder her for these thoughts , these small tethers of _emotion_ that claw at him and it should not happen.

(He remembers a general, gold and honor dressed upon him, kissing a little girl goodbye, proud and strong and loyal – what remains is a empty shell of a demon instead.)


	2. I Seek You Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They dance and snarl at each other, broke and battered and full of hatred but that doesn't stop the blood dripping through their veins or the hum of a kiss in the air.

i.

He is clawing and screaming , tendrils flying and snapping at him.

He is in a cage, Nightmares and Fearlings wrapping themselves around him but it is not something comforting or mundane or simply normal – it is chaos and negativity and the wind roaring through his ears.

_He feels as if he is being ripped apart, torn to shreds_

He feels like suffocating, waking up with chest heaving and sputtering and a animal’s wail on the tip of his ashen lips, eyes cold and frightened and _he_ the Nightmare King is trembling as if there are thousands of suns burning holes into his flesh and bone.

He wonders where these dreams are coming from, wonders if he is growing weak, wonders if there’s a certain culprit responsible for it all.

(He dreams of birds and colors and it’s enough to make him sick to the bone, sinew screaming in protest because she should not be able to infiltrate his dreams - _no one should be able to enter his dreams_ \- and yet she is there, colors and feathers, eyes fire and life strumming through her, and he wants to bash her head into the ground before he can lose what little sanity he has left)

He stumbles out of his throne, cage metal singing and humming with the rumble of a demon waking from its sleep.

He needs to get out, out of his skin, out of his body – out and away from the ground and it’s musky old familiar scents.

He glares at the globe with the lights shining on it , mocking and terribly cheery and he feels the familiar twinge in his body and old rusted heart 

_No one will remember you._

ii.

She is armor and steel nerve as she sits on her throne, eyes closed and sifting through the memories of the teeth that she has collected – she watches and sorts and thinks to herself what odd beings humans are.

(She is still weak, bandages wrapped around her but she will not stay idle, not if she can help herself) 

Baby Tooth twitters and pouts at her, tells her that she’ll work herself to the bone and exhaustion, or far worse - _death_ \- and the other Mini Fairies are sent into a frenzy of nerves and chatter because their Queen cannot die, they simply won’t allow that to happen! 

“Ladies, _please_ \- You don’t have to worry, promise. I’ll be fine.” 

Her voice is a calm melody , stringing itself along the wind as they all gradually calm down and get back to work, sorting through the memory boxes and heading out to the next harvest of teeth, golden coins shimmering through the sunlight’s dance. 

She closes her eyes for a moment, tense and nerves and her feathers are a bit mangled and bloodied, open wounds cutting across the wind’s caress as she moves and shifts in her throne, but she lets out a shaky laugh, quiet and barely there but she is willing to continue, put on the brave face so that no one can see the nightmares that plague her each and every day.

(She dreams of blood and the screams of her parents, dreams of feathers coursing and ripping through her skin, needles and blood and it’s all enough to cause her to want to vomit, but she stills herself, tells herself to breathe, if just for a moment , to not let the blood and dread suffocate her to the very end) 

She does not notice the shadow that sweeps across the sun’s rays, or the chill in the air until it’s a tad too late, and she is on the defensive, hands wrapping around the cold steel of her swords that lay in her hands, wings opening up and around her like a cocoon but she’s tired and weak, and not as fast as she would like to be.

She feels the hand that wraps around her throat and the face that glares at her from between her wings, a smile on Pitch’s face as he twists and turns until her wings give up and slowly drop down, too tired to batter and bruise and _cut_ against the pressure that he forces down and against them, and she is writhing and snarling at him, more animal than Guardian and he can only laugh, watch her wriggle beneath him, trapped between the wooden carvings of her throne and his body.

“You’ve caused me too many mornings where I wake up with a terrible taste in my mouth and my mind is filled with your disgusting feathers, Faerie Queen.” 

He leans down and hums in her ear, nuzzling her neck teasingly, whispering little lies just to get her rattled up and angry, because when she was angry, she gave him an insensitive to _break_ her.

“Aren’t you positively _revolting_ , feathers and all. No wonder your parents tried to get _rid of you_ ?”

He purrs into her ear, and it’s enough anger to give her the adrenaline rush, swords humming as she wriggles and moves and brings the steel up against his throat, a laugh sputtering from her throat as she hisses at him –

“You really shouldn’t try to sneak up on a _Queen_. We’re much more useful than _kings_ , Pitch.”

She smiles as his smirk slowly fades away into a hiss of disgust and he tries to tighten his hold on her neck but she presses a blade against his own throat and doesn’t hesitate to break the skin, even if it is just a little bit. 

“Hmm, just as I thought- as useless as ever and you bleed out like a stuck _pig_ \- which, is quite true now that I think about it since all you do is roll around in the _dirt_ with your Nightmares”

 

He snarls and moves away from her, shadows whispering and hissing around him as she gets up and off of her throne, a laughter on her lips as she staggers and moves around.

“So, to what do I have the splendid _honor_ of the Nightmare King visiting me _again_? Did you _miss_ me that much since the last time we fought that you couldn’t help yourself?” 

“Actually, I was hoping to crush your stupid skull so that I wouldn’t get to hear your insistent, snippy voice chattering about in my _head_!” 

 

iii.

There is something different about him this time – the air itself seems to be filled with static and hatred, and she can only reciprocate it.

They never got along, not since the first time they met, and all the times after that.

He cares for no one but himself, and she can only do the opposite, cherish the memories that she collects with her mini fairies and watch over the children of the world.

They clash , swords and spears of black and silver and it’s as if it is ice and darkness once more, but she is resilient, a hidden fire in her eyes as she moves , the memories of her mother dancing with the swords and fires that lit up the halls of their home.

She remembers her voice telling her -

_Don’t let the blades frighten you – they are you, and you are them. You need only to call upon them and they will dance with you_ \- she smirks as he grows frustrated, a howl on his lips as his movements grow sluggish and blood trickles down from the cuts that she leaves on his body, and he, to hers.

They are eye to eye, head to head – they are balanced and yet unbalanced.

There is no need for them to fight yet again, but it goes the same way it always does – she parries and attacks like a whirlwind and he dodges and dances with the nightmares that he conjures up, black sand tainted and eating away at everything it touches.

There is one thing that is slightly different.

One thing that is slightly off, that throws them both off of the tangent that their ideologies and existences that spin parallel to each other on one axis .

He manages to back her up against the wall, poppies and hydrangeas decorate the wall surrounding her head and it is a crown that mocks him, but she is too tired, and battered – swords clattering to the ground and sand hissing as it hit the ground.

The only sound is the echo of their chests heaving, breathes mingling and tangling with each other and they don’t know who moved first, but there is venom in their eyes as gold clashes with violet and they move in unison.

 

His lips met hers and she snarls as she bites on his lip, sucking and pulling hard enough to lap up the blood that drips down his chin, and he does the same to her, biting her neck and they don’t know why or how, but they can’t pull away from each other, they can only claw and bite and hiss and try to scratch the words into each other’s back.

_I don’t know why but I hate you and I don’t know why but part of me might be in love with you_


	3. Leftovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, they don't know where one starts and the other begins, or why the night makes them dull and spiteful or forgiving.
> 
> They do know, however, is that Tooth bites, and Pitch just happens to be on the receiving end of it.

i.

They slam into walls, snarls and hisses on their lips.

Breaths intermingling and snapping at each other like wolves and lions, not birds and shadows.

They don’t want this but they do and it’s enough to induce a headache from both of them at some regular intervals.

“You’re fucking disgusting” Tooth snarls, and yet she’s backed up against the wall, breath uneven and leaning against Pitch’s lithe frame because she’s too tired to deal with this, more or less think about what just happened because this should not work.

There is no equation in the realm that should allow this to work, because if we mix colors and monochrome, we get nothing but a mess of screams and a cacophony of sounds.

It is hair pulling and grunts, the sounds of metal clashing and hands twining together, soft flesh against the cold stone walls and it’s fine, they’ll make it work, somehow.

It is the sound of feathers rustling, vibrating arias and hatred spilling out from both of them.

When they fuck it’s as graceful as a bird falling, bursting into flames or something of the sort.

They move from the wall to one of the smaller rooms, onto the bed where it’s all bite marks and slaps, flesh against flesh and a smug look on Tooth’s face as she leans down on top of the Nightmare King and purrs, a smile on her face as she bites his neck again, enough to draw blood and spit it out, and yet some of it manages to trickle down to her chin - 

“What if I was to cut you up into little bits and burn you alive?” 

The Nightmare King only laughs and moves to lick the blood from her chin, causing her to curl her lip up in disgust and hiss at him.

“You wouldn’t even dare, you little wench.”

She punches him in the face and he snarls at her , and it’s once more, hands clawing at each other and nails digging into skin.

It is a simple game of power – who can ride who longer, who can tease and make the other moan into submission.  
That’s all it was to them.

(At least, that’s what they whispered to themselves afterwards)

Tooth curls up on her side, wrapping the sheets around herself like a second – no, a third- armor and she closes her eyes, wings fluttering and stilling, still as a leaf as she tried to fall asleep, even when her back is roaring with pain, and it hurts to move, even after getting slammed against the wall a few times and roughly kissed .

(It’s not like she minded the second part , but the first didn’t help her banged up state anyway.) 

ii.

Pitch is heavy breathing and fluttering nerves.

He doesn’t really know why, but he’s on edge , nerves dancing and sand twirling around his fingers.

He watches Tooth curl up into a ball and mutters quietly “You’re not going to help yourself if you think that curling up into a ball is a solution to everything, pixie.” 

There is no malice in his words, only a wry amusement. 

Still, they were at an agreement when they entered this entire ordeal and he did enjoy himself, even if he’ll have to cover up the bite marks that were littered on his neck, and he had muttered something about her incisors being as sharp as fangs, to which she only chuckled and murmured sleepily – “It’s just floss. Three times a day or more, after every meal. “ 

(Of course she had to relate it to the teeth.

_Always_ with the teeth) 

Pitch had an eye for detail – when you’re locked away and invisible to the world, you’ve got quite the time to simply listen and _watch_ , and use it to your advantage, get under the skin of others.

(Torment and rip apart, tear the fabric of dreams that the Sandman created, with his dream sand and whimsical creatures and ideas. It had taken him quite some time to perfect the idea of creating Nightmares, and how brilliant they were, little fearlings that corrupted from the inside out.) 

He notices that Tooth is shivering, perhaps, she is cold, perhaps she is terrified.

He can only laugh at the idea of her being _terrified_ of him, after all, she did punch him in the face for simply stealing a few of her faeries.

(Well, a little bit more than a few… more like, all of them minus one) 

There is a quiet air that drifts through the window, but he moves closer anyway, for the night seeps in and he is exhausted.  
“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her shoulder gently.

“Keeping you warm.”

She only laughs instead.

“You’re Pitch Black, the Nightmare King – you don’t _do_ warm.”

She doesn’t protest or move, so he takes it as a sign to close his eyes with her and fall asleep to the sound of her slowly evened out breaths.

For the first time in quite a while, there were no nightmares to be had.


	4. Sunbeams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunbeams and a little plant of hope.

i.  
The sunbeams glitter and hit them in the face, but it’s monochrome and color mixed into one and she’s sore all over, little groans escape her as she moves and remembers whose arms those are that wrap around her and whose breath is ghosting over her shoulder.

She doesn’t know how they got into this.

Or rather, why they got into this in the first place.

She tries to move, slip away like the shadows that danced along her walls but Pitch’s hold on her was warm and steady and so she slumped back down, and shifted, so that she was facing him instead, and buried her face into the crook of his neck and that was that.

He stirred with a quiet grunt and it is bleary golden eyes that watched the light dance along the walls and he doesn’t know why he feels as if he’s been in a battle, torn apart and ripped to shreds .

(Although, he supposes that what they had was indeed exactly that – a battle between them and something like emotion creeping up his throat)

ii.

“Are you going to move or are you going to continue using me as a pillow, pixie?” 

\- Is the first thing that she hears when she stretches out and opens her eyes again, violet meeting gold and it’s enough to make the taste in her mouth worsen.

With a flourish, she slithers on out and stretches and he can’t help but stare at her, muscles and feathers moving and color but it’s – it’s as if she is a kaleidoscope and he can’t help but try to figure things out. 

(He doesn’t know why he wants to stay here, when he should get back to his niche back in the ground, deep in the earth with the old skeletons and Nightmares that follow him around like obedient little pets) 

“Well, are you just going to stare , Pitch, or are you going to get on up and eat something?”

(What was that, something about the devil feeding you little fruit seeds and trapping you in his clutches? Or was it Hades and Persephone? Or something else that the humans had come up with in times of boredom and lack of fear.) 

He can only shake and laugh and mutter something about poison lips and she can only roll her eyes and mutter about how he’s being utterly ridiculous and a idiot.

They eat in the morning sun, and there is a tired peace amongst them in the air.

They break the silence and solitude with one simple statement – 

“We can’t do this anymore.” 

And everything reverts back to its former self, but he feels as if he’s been gutted and slammed against a wall of sharp spikes made of ice and darkness and iron, and she is calm and cool and steel laced up in feathers.

He doesn’t know why or how, or why he feels as if he can’t breathe, can’t understand the ridiculous behavior that his mind is contorting and twisting itself into, but it is and he thinks there’s a silver of something – 

Something hopeful.

Maybe even, something like 

Love.


	5. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the sickening smell of fruits and he wants to burn her alive.

He thinks it’s the sound of blood rushing through his head, or the fact that there are silver strung forks scrapping against porcelain plates and it’s the sweet scent of fruit that makes him want to gag and hurl and claw at his throat because this isn’t him – this isn’t right.

He shouldn’t be in the enemy’s territory, sitting and eating their godforsaken food.

He thinks of wringing her neck, or maybe throwing a knife at her and hoping it lodges into her throat so that she can shut up and never talk in her shrill , dancing voice that seems to weave through his ears like a constant mantra of vibrancy and life.

He thinks of how his skin itches and crawls, the fact that the Tooth Palace is all movement and color and it’s far too much for him, far too much for the sun glares down on him and Tooth is bathed in the shadows, a quiet smirk on her face as she watches him suffer quietly.

“You know, I think you would have melted already, with how much you’re glaring at the sunbeams. What did they ever do to you , Pitch?” Tooth watches, resting one hand on her knee as she sits on the chair , and there’s a quiet hum of amusement dancing on her face. 

“It’s a wonder you haven’t been fried to death, because I’m quite sure your feathers may or may not be starting to sizzle and burn.” Pitch mutters, glaring at her as the shadows danced around them. 

He hated her, and yet, there was something about her sitting there across from him that made her intriguing and he thinks, he needs to kill these thoughts before they start to multiple and manifest and he thinks her blood is laced with wine, because he would have never done what he did last night, he would have never touched her – never. 

He flinches and gets up, hiding behind the shadows of the columns as she smiles and lets out a laugh, tilting her head and she really shouldn’t look so lovely, malice in her eyes.

He snarls, words dripping out like black venom, stark contrast against the porcelain whites and pale pinks.  
“I hate you.” 

She smiles again, infuriating him and he lunges towards her, sand forming around his fingertips as the scythe swings down towards her.

It is steel and hardened sand that clash and ring out from the walls of the palace and he hears the twittering and nerves of the mini faeries that rush like a whirlwind but don’t come closer, only watch.  
ii.  
She thinks it’s like an old song that plays through her ears, steel swords and jewels shining and clanging against the scythe.

“You can’t run Pitch. You also can’t hide.” She mutters, eyes burning violet as she smiles, watching the spirit shift and hide away in the shadows, with nothing but his golden eyes gleaming and seething with hatred that watch her from afar.  
There’s a certain laughter that bubbles through her throat, and he thinks she’s lost her wits.  
“Seems to me like all those feathers finally did their job of snuffing your brain out.” He drawls, an oddly amused smirk scrambling onto his face as he watches her fly about the palace, watching and waiting.   
She doesn’t know why she’s so _happy_ , why she feels as if she can fly to the moon and back, as if the wind was her friend and the mountains danced beneath her feet.

She doesn’t notice him sneaking up behind her until it’s too late, and there’s the clang of steal and blood trickles through her back, wing snagged and torn from where he caught her, and she goes tumbling down down down and he smiles from above.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Seems to me like you’ve gotten a bit slow, Tooth.” He grins, and laughs, the echoes rising higher and higher and it seemed to suffocate her. 

iii.

It’s the sound of bells jingling and a sled crashing on by into the palace floor, skidding to a haphazard stop and he smirks and watches the rest of the guardians fuss over the faerie queen, broken and battered and he thinks that he can go off now, dance away with the shadows like an old black cat who has seen the world and has earned himself a long , coldhearted rest. 

“Till we meet again, Tooth.” 

Is all that he leaves them, voice echoing and booming, laughter slithering around them like snakes, and it’s enough to startle the guardians and make North and Jack and even Bunnymund fume and yell empty, scared threats to no one but the air, as he rides off, Nightmares neighing and Fearlings crying joy, stark black against the pale pastels of the palace. 

And he thinks, that this is how it is, how it should be.

And he won’t stop until she’s dead dead dead in the cold hard ground and he smiles like an old pleased black cat as he slithers back into his lair to plot and wait again.


	6. Psychobabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old memories that burn like old dead leaves, words long forgotten, written on curling yellowing pages of a book that is crumbling away and yet she holds on , like a lifeline to insanity. Or so, she thinks.

i.

She feels like old brittle bones and broken shards of glass that swallow her whole and never let go.

There is a dull throb that echoes through her head, a pounding like the sound of a war drum – monotone booms that never cease fire, and it is as if there are canons firing ammo at a never ending cycle.

She wants them to go away, wants their concerned looks and pitying glances to be wiped off their faces - 

_she is a queen, not a small girl who doesn’t know any better_ \- 

she wants them to leave, wants to be alone with her thoughts that simmer and burn like a viper’s venom seeping into her blood.

Jack is the first one to talk, all youthful energy and colorful anger – it’s something that he does, that he has a special talent for. 

Jack, out of everyone, makes a spectacle of things, because he is the Guardian of Fun and of course, there’s a certain process that goes through his head as to how he can handle stress, whether it be by simmering alone outside on rooftops in the dead of the night with no one but the moon watching, or whether it be attack straight on, charging blindly like a bull seeing red.

“We should go after him – What was _he_ even doing _here_ , Tooth? What kind of business does a rat like _Pitch_ have at the Tooth Palace?” 

Ice blue eyes, and winter white hair, but all she sees is red red red. 

It’s understandable really, why they – the rest of the Guardians – would be concerned, but one glance at Sandy and North and she knows they have an inkling of reason as to why she lunges at Jack, violet eyes burning and voice low , a whisper that slithers across the walls and engulfs them all .

(Something about old comrades, many moons ago. Or the respect that one warrior has for another, in some life forgotten in the books, written in old ink on curling yellow pages that turn to dust) 

“Pitch is no _ally_ of mine, Jack. However, he wasn’t always the Nightmare King.” 

There seems to be some sort of startled curiosity in Jack, that rises within him like wisps of hot breaths in the cold winter night, swirling and tumbling through him.

“That’s right, even old nasty Pitch was someone else, long ago.”

There’s a defeated tone that lurks in her voice as she slumps against the wall, a laugh bubbling out of her throat and Jack could only watch, disbelief and perhaps shock.

(The Faerie Queen has fallen, the memories are disintegrating into gold, rotten little boy who caused the Faerie Queen to stumble) 

“Tooth?” He asks, hesitant and tense, and she can only watch from beneath battered feathers and blood stained limbs. 

“Are you alright, Tooth?” North asks, his booming voice quiet , as if he were a large mouse in a nutcracker’s outfit, fur hat and all. 

“Maybe Pitch got into her head?” Bunnymund mutters, eyes narrowing as she watches them in return.

It’s only the Sandman who floats over to her, gives her a gentle pat on the head and she falls asleep, little teeth circling around her head as the Dream Sand kicks in. 

They wonder why she is the way she is, why old memories of a man long forgotten and long _dead_ were coming back to the forefront of her mind. 

ii.

He watches her lash out at her precious friends, and he can only laugh to himself, a hum on his lips as gold eyes flicker in amusement.

“So, the little faerie seems to be taking a trip down memory lane. Such a shame if anything were to happen to her precious Guardians hmm?” 

He watches , sun filtering through the cracks of his lair and he thinks that it’s time to invest in more cages and metal works - 

_purely for interior decorative purposes_.

iii.

In a forest, in the mountains, long forgotten and woven in a cocoon of sleep, is the Nightmare King’s daughter, who opens her eyes to the sound of howling winds and a fury of steel that hums and dances with blood decorating the air.

_I’ve been asleep for far too long._

It is the sound of the grass thawing, snow melting, steel singing and old memories swarming up inside her head, swallowing her whole, and dragging her under, with nothing but old black steel plates and golden eyes keeping her company.


	7. Spiral Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are lockers and visits and old friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm chrysanthemumskies on tumblr UWU

I.

She thinks of old mountains laid thick with snow, winds howling and there is something that she remembers , old songs laced with gold and hymns sang to the forest fires that burnt brightly like stars that seemed to crash into the Earth's atmosphere, burning land and water and tumbling into the cold soil where nothing was to exist - not anymore , anyway.

She thinks of a father that she had, long ago, with red cloaks of freedom and honor, with metal armor laced with dream sand and gold, an entire fleet under his command.

_All the world's a stage, and we are but fools ._

She remembers old thunderstorms and thinks of strong arms that would hold her close, an old lullaby would sooth her, guide her worries to rest. 

 

And yet, that was far too long ago, and she wonders if he remembers her , or if he's even alive. 

She thinks, she may visit her little Tooth Queen, see if the moon still danced along the tapestries and if the wind played the little song that always warmed her heart that she couldn't quite know why or how but it did, and she felt quite complete , if only for a moment. 

Once the winter winds storm through the land and the laughter of children becomes as gentle as dove wings and she can learn how to sleep again, she thinks she will visit.

ii.

Toothiana wonders why she wakes up with more bandages than usual, then she remembers the wisps of dream sand that curled around her and she wakes up to the sun humming on her face and a burning sensation on her chest.

She sits up - _barely_ \- and rubs her eyes and there is a warm presence in the room that seems to float through her and wrap her up in a lull of peace and she can only yawn and look around , the Palace was quite quiet and she wonders where her girls are, so she takes the duvet that was haphazardly covering her and wraps it around her like a long cloak, and she slowly makes her way out of her room and into the corridors, feet padding quietly along the tiles and she hears a buzzing and twittering hum in the corridors that lead to one of the larger rooms , and turns the corner, only to find a familiar face of chestnut locks and emerald green eyes with flowers in her hair and it's a quiet smile on her face as she slumps against the wall and laughs a little and then there are a pair of lithe and strong arms that hold her up gently -

"Seraphina?"

"I figured I'd check up on you, little bird."

"I'm not a little bird you know, I haven't been one in quite a long time."

 

iii.

He watches from his lair, metal and cold earth ringing in his ears but he doesn't pay too much attention to it, just watches like a curious old cat, and wonders why the woman in green seems to be so familiar .

There is an old locket that hums in the far corner of his mind , or his lair - it is rusted and worn out but it is silent and ringing with memories , and yet , it is a curious little thing.

 

It does not open up to anyone, for it is fused shut together like silence that dances along the walls and he thinks of an old war, filled with blood and death and a little thing called 

 

fear .


	8. Old Clockwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are broken wings and quickened breathes and the cold tiles that greet Tooth and her torn wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long lack of updates ;v; school got in the way! 
> 
> chrysanthemumskies @ tumblr.com

i.  
There’s a certain ghost that dances along the edge of his lips as he watches the Faerie Queen and the newcomer interact, and he feels as if his blood runs cold, slowly freezing up in his veins. 

(He thinks of fog and old wooden forests, hidden away in the depths of his mind. He thinks he shouldn’t be able to remember her, or what her name was. 

What was her name? The young woman who seemed to be ageless and young and old all in one, wrapped in greens and gold and there’s a silent hum with her as he watches from below, breath clogging up his lungs and it’s as if he has forgotten how his lungs work.) 

He feels as if he is an old rag tag doll, with a clock ticking away somewhere in old wooden corridors caked with dust. 

(Isn’t there blood underneath your fingernails, little goblin king?) 

He thinks of a name that runs through his head like the buzz of a beehive. 

He thinks of old sunlight filtering through abandoned glass shattered with nothing but old ghost whispers to keep company in the dead summer heat, with the sun beating down on the ground and he thinks of old oceans sweeping in and clearing out entire land masses and the name is on the tip of his tongue, like old honey –

_Sera .. .. phina_

 

It’s odd, feeling the name roll around on his tongue. Not quite melodious, not quite harsh . 

(She is cruel like you, little Pitch. Perhaps even more so. 

After all, what was it that happened to those who were swallowed up by stardust? ) 

ii. 

Seraphina is something like the cold air in the early patches of the morning on a cold spring day – enough to breathe into your lungs and fill you with enough energy to make you feel as if you could run a marathon without breaking sweat. 

It’s that odd sort of energy that seizes you at odd intervals at night, when the clock ticks away the darkness second by second and the sun slowly comes closer as the seconds roll off your tongue, syllables dancing away like the metaphorical sheep going into their pens. 

It’s the sort of energy that you feel when the sun slowly rises up above and you see it through the windows of your home, and there is stained glass dancing along with the dust particles but there is the roar of the ocean in your ears and you think that perhaps this is alright, that you can get out of bed and take on the world’s challenges, no matter how big or small they may be. 

Tooth thinks that she doesn’t quite want to see Seraphina. Doesn’t really want to see anyone really, not with the snagged wing that shoots up spurts of pain every so often depending on how she moves . 

 

(It’s better to just lie down on the tiled floor of the Palace, let the coldness seep in, even if it’s just for a little moment’s notice. It’ll do her good, to dull the pain) 

“Tch, really Tooth, did you have to get your wing snagged today of all days?” Seraphina muttered, a slightly amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips before disappearing behind a veil of tumbling brown hair, and the Tooth Queen could only laugh and mutter under her breath that she really isn’t a “little bird, I can take care of myself” as Seraphina gently moved her so that the side with the injured wing was more or less relieved of pressure. 

“Come on then little dove, you’ve got a bit of stitching up to do. Chamomile tea should help with soothing the pains.” She muttered, gently pressing a kiss to the Tooth Fairy’s cheek before sitting next to her and calmly stroking her feathers as Tooth slipped into the confines of a wordless, soundless sleep. 

It seemed as if the darkness wrapped her up in a warm blanket that soothed her aching bones. 

(At least, she hoped that was what the darkness was doing, for there was a small kernel of fear lodged into the back of her throat that she may very well expect a visit from the Nightmare King himself, and she was in no condition to bare teeth and sink her swords into his bone marrow colored fresh, like that of fallen ash). 

 

iii.

There is something like the constant sound of chatter that manages to set his teeth on edge. It is one of those sounds that do not fade into the distant hum of the background, that does not somehow become static noise for the sake of becoming noise.

Instead it grows, louder and louder until it seems that the room is about to burst and that the chatter will soon manifest itself into laughing mouths and chattering, snarling teeth. 

Remember, to never trust the Monkey’s Paw.

He thinks, and laughs and laughs and it is his laughter that shakes his small little domain, his little lair beneath the earth, beneath the sun’s rays and that is how he likes it.

To be isolated.  
Alone.  
Because when he is isolated he can think and plan and plot, and he can analyze and criticize the ineffective tactics of all the fools that had tried to stop his existence from happening, thinks of the enemies that seem to be off in distant lands but for all he knows they could be lurking in the shadows of the nearest corner, or even living in broad daylight with him not even sparing a thought to them. 

He remembers the smell of clementines and there is an odd feeling bubbling through him , almost as if it is fear. He does not say the beast’s name but he can sense it, sense it in the way the rabbit only 20 feet away from where he was currently resting managed to quicken its heartbeat and try to run as fast as it possibly could only to go into a state of shock, and he hears them , faintly, but they are there . 

They are the laughs of the Monkey King, and it seems he has come to play.


	9. Quiet Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is the quiet that drives him mad, and the shrieks that ring through the forest night.
> 
> There's also wine, and a bath, and a kiss or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chrysanthemumskies @ tumblr uvu!

i.

She remembers the whispering of the forests and the rocks, of the rivers that flowed through the lands and the animals that were loyal to the Sisters of Flight.

 

She remembers her father, vaguely – there is an air of dignity and strength and the smell of old spices that she remembers smelt like oranges and burnt incense, and remembers the flurry of feathers that was her mother.

 

She remembers, faintly, as the darkness slowly drifts in an out of her and she slowly lets herself be coaxed back into the state of being awake. 

(She feels heavy, as if there are wooden timbers that are dragging her down with each flutter of her eyelids that she takes.) 

She remembers the voice of someone who is warm and small and vast and compact and she blinks once, twice, thinks that she hit her head against the floor until there’s the dull throb of pain that shoots through her shoulder and back and she realizes that there are bandages and that she isn’t on the cold floor but rather on a soft mattress in one of the rooms in the palace and she can hear the faint buzzing of the Mini Faeries through the hazy blinking of her eyes and she slowly lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a grumble and a whine and there’s a cold cloth pressed to her forehead and a gentle hand that pushes her down a bit and it’s Seraphina who slowly comes into focus and who smiles at her and tells her to go back to sleep even though she feels as if she’s been sleeping for days now. 

“I’m okay Sera, really.”

“Yes of course you are, with the way you move like a sluggish drunk patoo bird , you’re perfectly okay.” Seraphina mutters, an emerald hued shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she leans forward and adjusts Tooth’s pillow and places a hand on her cheek before winking and moving forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips and chuckling quietly when Tooth’s cheeks brighten a bit in color.

“Well now at least you’re not as dull as the floorboards on a ship, Tooth. Unfortunately I have to get back to the woodlands, pressing matters and all. Girls – “

Here she gets up and addresses the Mini Fairies that fly up to her and line up in line , awaiting orders from a commanding lieutenant, all small salutes and serious expressions on their faces – 

“Make sure Toothy here stays put. No flying, no worrying about the teeth or the kids, I think we got all the bases covered with that, right Baby Tooth?” 

Seraphina grins as Baby Tooth nods and zips around, quickly gathering her fellow Mini Fairies before flying off to a different part of Punjam Hy Loo, presumably to get everything in order and keep the woodworks running while Tooth recovered. 

With a grin and a spin to her step, Seraphina made her exit known with nothing but the wind rustling the wind chimes that were placed by the windows and Tooth could do nothing but blink and sit up a bit, mind foggy and hazy but there was a dull pain where her wings were and it clicked in her head. 

“Ah right, that shithead Pitchiner.” She muttered, rubbing her eyes before plopping back down onto the bed, letting out a hiss as she hit her wing.

“Right. Right. Not moving. “ 

(Not at least anytime soon) 

ii.

Things have been quiet, or so he thinks that things have been quiet because he’s been keeping subtle tabs on Tooth every so often.

The rest of the Guardians didn’t really bother with him – heck, they probably thought he didn’t exist anymore and was like a sniveling little snail that was scampering around in the shadows waiting to be crushed underneath someone’s unsuspecting boot. Not that it mattered, it helped him sit and brood (think. He doesn’t do _brooding_ , he thinks) and plan, while they went about doing whatever it was that Guardians did when the Boogeyman was not around. 

( _Must be real boring, not having me around._ ) 

There’s a rattling of the empty cages that hum from vibrations that come from above ground and he thinks that the rattling is too annoying, as if it scrapes and claws against the very walls of his mind when really, it was the silence that was slowly making his skin crawl. He’s far too used to the voices, for the Fearlings whispering about an little girl and a golden locket that has since been rusted shut and why would he even _care_ about a little girl whom he can’t even remember, save for the fact that she had long curly dark locks and green eyes that would gleam like a cat’s eye, and a soft voice that fluttered through his mind when the silence became deafening. The rattling gets louder and louder until there’s a snarl on his lips as he moves through the shadows and up to the surface, sand hissing and Nightmares clamoring ahead of him, neighs more like screams as they crash out of the entrance of his lair, lashing out as he steps out and looks around, scythe hissing as it forms in his hands and there is a smile on his face that slowly forms, lazy and old and all the more giddy.

“Come out come out wherever you are” he sing songs, mocking and there’s a glint in his eye that he hasn’t had since the time that he had tried to snuff out the lights of the children in the world and take over after years of being a whisper of air, more ghost then Boogeyman and nothing more than a myth that’s lost all sort of appeal, written off as a joke rather than a spirit to be feared of. 

He hears the shriek of the monkey before it appears and he swings and moves and there’s a grin as he lunges and wraps a hand around its throat, applying pressure until it stops scrambling and sputtering. 

“Tsk tsk tsk. Trying to sneak up on the Boogeyman hm? I thought you knew _better_ ” he drawls, applying a bit of pressure to the monkey’s throat.

Leaning closer he smiles slowly, more teeth than pleasantry and he lets out a quiet growl 

 

“Why don’t you scamper back to your little King and tell him that if he wants to talk to me, he should do so himself, not send a little runt to yowl at me. “ 

 

He lets the monkey go, who nods and scampers away, Nightmares trailing after it into the trees, the smell of fear high in the air.

 

“Tch. Now I’ll have the smell of monkey on me. Time for a bath, I suppose.” 

 

iii.

He really wasn’t planning on visiting her not after the little ordeal and her wing getting snipped.

 

(Well, torn actually, if your memory serves you right, Pitchiner.) 

But the smell of the monkey’s fur was getting to him, and it really was quite annoying and it really had been quite some time since he last saw her, which is why he had decided that he should stop in and visit the good old lovely Toothiana, provided that she would be too tired to try to murder him the minute she saw him.

Which, to be honest the minute he stepped foot into the Tooth Palace it was eerily quiet. 

Not that he minded really, sifting through the shadows until he stopped in front of her door and slipped into the room, where he was met with the sight of a slightly drunk Tooth, and he simply raised an eyebrow before drawling 

“Drunk at this time of the day Toothy? That’s not very _queen_ \- like of you.” 

All he got was a growl from her and a glare as she raised the cup to her lips and took another swing of the wine. “Shut up Pitch. I wouldn’t be like this if _someone_ didn’t decide to slice my wing as if I was a butterfly about to be pinned down in a glass frame.” 

“Oh come on Toothy, I was only having a bit of _fun_ ”

“You’re Pitch Black, you don’t do _fun_ , and quite frankly you _reek_. What, did you sludge through a dumpster on your way here? What _are_ you doing here anyway?” she muttered, watching him wearily like a cat watching a mouse. 

“Well, _I_ was being a good neighbor and visiting you, after that _terrible_ little injury of yours. Also well, I wanted to take a bath. Since you know, my place is still going under a little bit of renovations, ever since last time. “ Pitch replied, a lazy smile on his face. 

Tooth just blinked at him once, twice, before getting up and shifting a bit, moving her injured wing slightly before picking up a dagger and tossing it at him in annoyance. 

(To her jargon he caught it by the tips of his fingers, or maybe her aim was off because she was a bit tipsy after all the wine that she’d be drinking lately) 

“I’m not some _hotel_ for you to stop in and come and go as you please, Pitch.” She growled, before moving towards him and pushing him aside to move through the door and muttered “Are you coming or not?” 

And if she ignored his shit eating grin he didn’t say much except trail after her, a hum on his lips. 

iv. 

 

She all but shoved him inside the bathroom and really it was more like a mini suite with a large space between the doorway and the bathtub which was more like a mini swimming pool in a way, creamy marble and standing on legs that were painted gold and there were colorful tiles that decorated the floor and he could only quirk an eyebrow at her as she went over and filled the tub with water, moving around and he could only snicker as she looked at him and then quickly turned away 

“Off you go then, into the tub.” 

“What, are you going to watch? Never pictured you as a voyeur, Toothy.” He snickered, before quickly disrobing and stepping into the tub, submerging himself until only his shoulders and head were above water, which was quickly filled with soap and bubbles. 

“ _Bubbles_ , Tooth?” he muttered , looking up at her before rolling his eyes and muttering “Relax, I’m in the tub. You don’t have to look as if I’m going to _scar_ you.” 

“Shut up Pitch.” 

“Never would I thought that the mighty Toothy is afraid of a little skin.”

“I’ll make you shut up if you won’t shut up yourself.” 

“Oh, really? I doubt that.”

He didn’t expect that she’d make her way over and glare at him before sitting on the edge of the tub and snaking a hand in his hair before tugging him close and breathing “I told you to shut up already , Pitch.” before kissing him roughly on the lips. 

Still, there was a grin that made its way onto his face and before she could pull away he moved closer and hummed against her lips, kissing her back quietly before muttering 

 

“Seems like you’ve had a tad bit too much wine, Toothy.” 

She only snickered and muttered something that sounded like "Shut up" before he smirked and whispered in her ear 

"Make me."

To which, she did, to his delight, until he pulls her down into the tub and she lets out a shriek and flails around, splashing him in the face and it's quiet rage that slowly develops into a laugh that warms him and he doesn't know why, but he doesn't fight it. 

Not this time.


End file.
